


Jeremy drops out of college during December of his freshman year

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, downer ending, emotional breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17038007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Here's what happens in the months leading up to that.





	1. August

**AUGUST**

 

The summer days are still long when Jeremy and Michael leave for college. The day that Jeremy has to say goodbye to his friends is the longest one of all. Brooke’s eyes are red and wet in Jenna’s last group selfie. Chloe pretends to be aloof, but threatens to hunt them down personally if they don't keep in touch. Rich calls them all suckers for voluntarily partaking in more school, and Jake is unusually quiet. 

Christine's already gone, having received a conditional acceptance to NYU, the requirements of which involve her spending summer at the school, taking remedial math classes at the cost of a million dollars an hour. 

(She'd been near gleeful announcing she was going to go. “Only somebody with no concept of numbers would take the school up on this opportunity! Student loans are going to bite me in the ass! I'll live in a box on the street!”) 

Jeremy and Michael end up taking two cars to Burlington Vermont, each riding with their respective families. They'd wanted to go together, but there was no way of fitting both of them, Mr. Heere, the Mrs. Mells, and all of their crap into one car. 

“You’re going to have the time of your life,” Jeremy’s dad tells him. “You and Michael both.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” Jeremy asks. 

His dad ruffles his hair, but doesn't say anything. 

“I mean, first mom left you, and now I'm leaving you. Are you gonna be okay? I know going to Vermont was my idea and all—” Jeremy twists the black plastic bracelet on his wrist, the one Michael gave him to keep his hands busy. “—but if you tell me not to go, I won't.” 

Dad pats Jeremy’s hand, eyes on the road. “Consider yourself honorably discharged from the household, private.” 

“But mom…”

“Wasn't my eighteen year old son.” 

“Yeah, but…”

“Parents expect their children to fly the coop eventually. It's good that you have Michael. You two could take on the world together. I'm looking forward to hearing about your adventures.” 

“I guess. I mean, yeah. College is going to be awesome.” 

Jeremy's dad holds out his hand for a high five, which Jeremy returns, even if high fiving his dad is the dumbest and most awkward thing imaginable. His dad has done a lot for him, especially in the last year and a half. He can get a goofy high five for his troubles. 

_You look like an idiot,_ a voice sighs. Jeremy grits his teeth, and snaps the bracelet against his wrist — One, two, three, four. Four times. That's the rule. Snap once just ‘cause, twice to think, three times to find his voice when talking is hard, and four times to quiet the Squip when it offers unwanted advice. There are other numbers too, with corresponding meanings. One of these days Jeremy is going to have to write an instruction manual. 

As the car drives on, the only voices inside are Jeremy’s and his father's. 

———————

There's a party atmosphere to move in day at Burlington College. Parents abound, helping their kids to haul boxes and bags up and down stairs. There are balloons and mocktails in the auditorium, where everyone is checking in. Michael shows up to offer Jeremy one of each. Jeremy almost doesn't see him at first. He's busy looking around and around and around. He doesn't have a certain number of bracelet snaps to stop himself from freezing up, because most of the time he _can't_ stop himself from doing that, and setting up rules that don't work is a good way to make all of the rules unravel. 

Michael slings an arm around Jeremy, and kisses the top of his head. Jeremy can feel him smiling against his scalp. “Come on, dude. Let's get our keys and check out the digs. This is gonna be _amazing_.” 

Jeremy shuts his eyes tightly, putting all of his effort into moving his feet, and smiling. It works, and by the time he's taken ten steps, it's almost easy. He and Michael fill out some forms, while their parents hover behind (taking pictures in the case of Michael’s mothers). Jeremy’s mocktail is cold and coconut flavored, like a fancy version of a slushie. Not a bad way to start things off. He keeps dropping the balloon, though. Stupid balloon. 

Between the five of them, they get Jeremy and Michael’s things moved to their room, which is on the fourth floor. Four is the number to shut up the Squip. _Snap, snap, snap, snap._ The elevator is too slow to be bothered with, but Jeremy’s dad and Mrs. Erica Mell are great for lugging stuff. Michael’s moms insist on making Michael’s bed for him. Jeremy’s dad tries to do the same for Jeremy, but he doesn't know how, so Michael’s mothers take over. Jeremy’s dad reminds him and Michael to take care of each other. His goodbyes are jovial, something that Jeremy is grateful for. He's not sure how much he can handle in the way of parental emotions. 

Michael sniffles on the freshly made bed after his moms leave. Michael emotions, Jeremy can deal with, if only because Michael isn't going to let himself show them for very long. 

(Sometimes Michael _does_ get significantly upset, but never when he can help it, and he doesn't seem on the verge of that now.)

Jeremy plops down next to him, winding an arm around his waist.

“We’re going to make this place look so cool,” Michael says, like he isn't experiencing a wave of feelings. He takes of his glasses, to wipe them on his sweatshirt. “Smaller than I expected, but we’re gonna make it mega cool.” 

“You wanna set up the TV over there?” 

“Yeah, alright. You wanna move the beds together?” 

Jeremy feels a certain pang, that their family’s last gift to them before driving off is going to get undone in less than 24 hours, but he nods, and starts pushing. 

Michael gets his speakers set up to blast something by Marley, and they spend the next hour getting things in order. Most of the stuff is Michael’s. Jeremy’s Squip, deactivated though it is, still finds ways to make Jeremy know how much it disapproves of his possessions and taste in decorating. It’ll be good to have Michael’s things, and be honor-bound not to freak and start throwing them out or whatever. It’ll be almost like being surrounded by his pre-Squip self, who at his best was mostly an extension of Michael anyway. That's not to say that Jeremy wants to be an extension of Michael again, just that the pac-man poster that they put up is inherently familiar and comforting. 

Their dorm is suite style. Jeremy and Michael share one room, then there's a bathroom, and a door connecting it to another room, where two other people will live. It's a couple of hours before Jeremy hears rustling and voices on the other side of that door, a new student and parents going through the same routine that Jeremy and Michael already did. 

“I'm gonna knock,” says Michael. 

“Dude, no. He's saying goodbye and shit.” 

“Yeah, okay, but—” Michael tugs at the headphone cord that hangs around his neck. It's kind of weird for him to want to meet new people, but that's one of the things he'd said he was going to do at school. No more anti-social headphones kid schtich. 

He'd explained it like this, before they left: 

_“I already know everybody at Middleborough. There's no point in expending social energy for anybody outside our group, because I already know I don't give a fuck about them. When we get to Burlington, I need to figure out who I give a fuck about, and who I don't. Gotta dive right into that scene, and figure out what's what.”_

Jeremy takes out the papers that he received while he was signing in. Classes don't start for a few days, but they've got all kinds of welcome week events that they have to go to. As far as Jeremy can tell, Michael views navigating the college social system as a a bandaid he has to rip off, which is liable to send him running into situations where he shouldn't, and make sure that he and Jeremy both are just as outcasted as they were at the start of high school. Jeremy’s Squip has tried to explain as much to him, during those rare times when Jeremy can't help but accidentally listen. 

“We don't have anything to do tonight,” Jeremy says, reading from the paper, mostly to distract Michael. “Tomorrow there's a welcome assembly, an assembly on how to use ‘Monster Career Services’ which probably isn't as cool as it sounds—”

“Hey, do you think I could get a degree in being a werewolf?” 

“Probably not.” 

“Jeremy, it’s my dream.” 

“I mean, I don't think you need a degree for that, ‘cause—” 

Michael howls. The conversation on the other side of the door goes silent, and Jeremy’s eyes widen. So much for being cool in college. At this rate, he can sign himself up for another four years of being called furry. The guy on the other side has no way of knowing who is making weird noises, and…Jeremy doesn't care. Caring about being cool leads him down bad paths. He cares about being happy and mentally healthy, and being good to Michael. He cares a lot about being good to Michael, and that means loving his quirks and oddities and…

Jeremy howls too. That's what caring about Michael is all about.

“See?” Jeremy says. “I told you. We don't even need a degree to pull werewolf shit.” 

—————

Later that night, Jeremy and Michael meet their suite mates. Their names are David and Paul, and they are about the gazillionth people that Michael and Jeremy have met today, in between circling around campus and trying to get their bearings. 

(Jeremy does not have his bearings at all, but he's pretending. He and Michael arranged to have the same classes. Maybe if Jeremy is lucky, he won't have to admit how lost he'd be without him.)

Being a new student and talking to other new students reminds Jeremy of trying out for a play, except that there's no director and the actors are auditioning each other, and also they don't know what the play is, or even what genre of play they're doing. In other words, it’s auditioning without all the reassuring aspects, like scripts, clear narrative expectations, and Christine. 

David and Paul start their bid at whatever mystery role Jeremy’s life might have to offer them by knocking on the door that connects their two rooms.

“We should probably talk about rules for the bathroom,” is the first thing that Paul says. He's shorter than either Jeremy of Michael, and better dressed. “I noticed there are no locks on the doors, so knock if you want to come in. I was thinking we could switch off weekly who cleans it.” 

David nods along with all this, not saying much until thirty minutes later, when Paul disappears to the other room, satisfied with their bathroom arrangements, and intent on starting to preview some of the reading for his classes. 

“I like your patches,” he tells Michael. 

“Thanks, man. I like your nails.” 

David is wearing chipped blue and green nail polish. Jeremy’s Squip would tell him to ignore it. Noticing details about a person on your first meeting can give the wrong impression. Compliments are to be given in broad and impersonal strokes, like by talking about shirts or whatever. 

Jeremy deals with his misgivings by not saying anything, not even when David sits down on the bed to talk with him and Michael. David stays long into the night, but Jeremy doesn't say a word. He listens, observes, and pushes his bracelet in circles around his wrist.


	2. September

**September**

Jeremy isn't lost at school, but he has a shitty sense of direction. He follows Michael a lot. 

What he'd hoped, when he decided to go to Burlington, was that he'd be a different person here than he was in New Jersey. Outwardly, he's succeeding! At Middleborough, he was known first as a loser, second as the kid who caused a whooping cough outbreak, and third as the kid rumored to have gotten everyone to do ecstasy at the school play. He'd been known for being in a coma after, for blanking out, for being prone to panic and fits of stuttering. 

Now he's known for being Michael’s boyfriend, and it's a role that people kinda dig. Near total strangers think it's cute that they've known each other since forever, and they're in college together, and they’re dating. People like that, and they like Michael, ‘cause he smiles a lot, has an _aesthetic_ , and has suddenly (out of freaking _nowhere_ ) become good at talking to people. 

David is the first person to catch on to how Michael and Jeremy are a thing. The school at large figures it out like two days after that, and then Paul finally clues in about a week later. Paul’s main goal in life is making sure that everybody uses the pungent, asthma inducing air freshener he's bought. They're supposed to spray it every time they enter the shared bathroom, even to brush their teeth. Michael reacts badly to strong smells, even more so than Jeremy, who at least has an inhaler to deal with the effects. Michael is good with natural stuff like weed and Doritos, but perfume makes him stressed and antsy. 

Jeremy figures he can do something about that. 

Michael’s stood up for Jeremy a million times over, so on Jeremy’s first weekend at school, he knocks softly on the door that connects Paul and David’s room to the bathroom. The time has come for Jeremy to play the protector. 

Brandishing a heavy text book, Paul opens the door. “Is the toilet clogged?” he asks.

“No. I mean… I don't think so?” Jeremy gives his bracelet three good plucks.  
“Okay,” says Paul. “Are we out of freshener? I bought the first bottle. Now it's your turn.”

“I’ll buy it under the condition that we stop using it,” Jeremy says. “Except…um… What if I just didn't?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Like… okay… so what if it's not _us_ that stink, but the air freshener that stinks? And if we… like… What if we stopped using it and everyone was happier?” 

“I’d rather have it,” says Paul. “Four is a lot of people to be sharing one bathroom.” 

“Micheal is allergic,” Jeremy lies. Is Paul staring at him? Paul is definitely staring at him. Hell, maybe Jeremy does smell bad, and he's the problem, and that's why Paul is staring. “Michael is very allergic and he could die,” Jeremy rambles, but it's not enough. He needs to say more, to make his story credible. “If he dies I won't have a boyfriend anymore.”

Jeremy plucks four times at his bracelet. The Squip— always well pleased with dishonesty, but thoroughly grossed out by Jeremy’s feelings for Michael— is sighing somewhere in the distance, and Jeremy has no time for it. 

“Wait, hold up,” Paul says. “You two are—”

“Almost out of epipens!” 

“How long have you been together?” 

_’We’re not’,_ the Squip supplies. 

“Proximity-together since we were five, but only dating-together since junior year,” Jeremy says. 

“Oh! Okay, good. That’s a relief.” 

“Uh… what?” 

“It explains why you’re all over each other. I honest to god saw him grab your behind the other day, and I was like, _dear god_ is this what being roommates is all about? ‘Cause I would not want David to go around randomly groping me.”

“Oh!” says Jeremy. And then (stupidly): “Okay, wow!” 

_’Ask him what planet he's from,’_ the Squip supplies. 

_’Or I could not be an asshole,’_ Jeremy thinks back. He bites down hard on his lip. It's not good to answer the Squip, not even to call him out for being a certified jerkwad. He gives his bracelet another four snaps. 

“Are you doing okay with the whole college thing?” Jeremy asks. “It's just… we haven't talked a lot, and you seem sorta uncomfortable with being here.” 

“It's fine. I hate this school, but it's fine.” 

“That sucks,” Jeremy says. It also doesn't give him a lot of leeway in how to respond to Paul, and doesn't do anything to help with the air freshener situation. “So…” 

_’He's neurotic and you should tell him so.’_

“Michael and I are on your side. Probably David too? I don't know what goes through his mind, but he doesn't seem like an ass. Maybe we can figure out something with the air freshener?” 

“Like what?” Paul asked. 

Michael would suggest looking up the Wikihow page on bathroom cleaning. That's a good idea, actually. A lot of Jeremy’s better ideas come from channeling his inner Michael, which is okay, as long as he takes the time to consider for himself what his _real_ thoughts are. It's important that Jeremy always says and does stuff that is genuinely his own, and not become an echo of Michael, or of the Squip. It's important that he speaks the truth as he understands it, not random lies that present themselves as the only reasonable way of getting his needs met. 

“Like what?” Paul repeats. 

“Can I get back to you on that?” 

“I guess,” Paul says. “Or I could just ask for a room transfer.” 

Jeremy shrugs. Again, Paul has said something that there's no good answer for, so Jeremy doesn't answer. He waves a hasty goodbye, and retreats back to his own room. 

Later that night, he's lying with Michael in bed, trying to to study while Michael reads something on his tablet. 

“Feel like donating ten dollars towards an air purifier and some plants?” Michael asks. 

“Sure. Why?” 

“Using the power of the internet to solve our weird bathroom situation.” 

Jeremy’s skin prickles. _He_ was supposed to take care of that situation! Just goes to show how fucking incompetent he is. 

“Plants absorb odors,” Michael continues. 

‘ _Plants are for homosexuals,_ ’ says the Squip. Four snaps to shut it up. 

“What's it saying?” Michael asks. 

“That plants are gay.” 

“Well, it’s not wrong.”

Jeremy’s stomach twists. “I know you're joking, but please don't validate it right now.”

“Sorry. You at Red level, or…?” 

“Probably not.” Jeremy doesn't know what taking Red does to his brain, but he does know that it _hurts_ , and that he's got other coping methods. “Let's stop talking about it and buy as many plants as we can afford.” 

“We can do that,” Michael agrees. 

————-

Okay, so maybe Jeremy _is_ lost at school. It's because he's dyspraxic, and that makes his sense of direction shitty. Most people can make sense of maps. Most people have an internal compass. Not Jeremy! He's got one class that Michael isn't in, and Michael practices going with him to that classroom four or five times, until Jeremy gets the hang of it. Other than that, he just goes where Michael goes, and is only slightly bitter about it. 

(He has nothing to be bitter about. Michael starts leaving for classes five minutes earlier than he wants to, just because Jeremy is afraid of being late. He hangs with Jeremy in empty classrooms when they inevitably arrive stupid early, and doesn't act like it's a big deal.) 

Jeremy joins the drama club without Michael. They practice going to the auditorium nine times, and then Michael proclaims himself done with his theatrical involvement, at least until the time comes for him to watch Jeremy in a show. 

The auditorium is in a weird part of school. Very twisty and turny.

It's okay. 

Jeremy likes having his own thing. It's not as good as it was with Christine, but it's something. 

The first time that Jeremy leaves the cafeteria without Michael, it's because four of the drama club girls sit down at his and Michael’s table and begin regaling him with all of their feelings about Newsies. Michael hangs for a bit, but he promised to help David with his astronomy homework, so he leaves Jeremy to it. 

And it's okay. 

It's fine. The Squip is perturbed that Jeremy has been at school less than a month and is already giving off come-talk-to-me-about-prancing-street-urchins vibes, like that's the first step to becoming a eunuch or whatever, but Jeremy refuses to care. 

The problem comes when it's time to go, and Jeremy isn't quite sure if he should turn left or right to get back to his dorm. He’ll know that eventually, but he doesn't know that _now_ , and he's so behind the curve on knowing basic fucking things that everybody else can figure out on the first try. 

_’Right,’_ the Squip supplies. 

And what can Jeremy do, really? He turns right. 

_’Other right,’_ the Squip says, in a mild tone that conveys more about Jeremy’s abject idiocy than any insult ever could. 

“I'm terrible,” is the first thing that Jeremy says, back in his dorm room. 

Michael raises his eyebrows. He pauses his video game. Lucky thing he's not with David any more. “What happened?” 

“Can we practice going to and from the Cafeteria, and then maybe all of our classes? I want to know where shit is. I knew where shit was back home. I can figure it out here. I should have figured it out already, but I didn't, so I'm going to do it now.” 

“I'm down for that.” Michael gets up. He walks over to Jeremy, and puts a hand on his arm. “Where to first?” 

Jeremy shrugs. He huffs out a breath. 

“You sure you don't want to take a break or something?” Michael asks. 

Jeremy nods. 

“Is that a break nod or a no break nod?” 

“No break,” Jeremy says. “Let's start with the cafeteria.” 

“You show me the way that you think it is, and I'll tell you if you're wrong.”  
Jeremy plucks four times at the bracelet. He doesn't want any hints this time. “Okay,” he says.

Shockingly, Jeremy gets Michael to the cafeteria and back without receiving any directions from him or anything else. Could it be that he already knew? It wouldn't be the first time that the Squip caught glimmer of uncertainty, and rode it straight to the forefront of Jeremy’s psyche. 

“You still want to practice again?” Michael asks. 

“Yeah.” If uncertainty is what gives the Squip an opening, Jeremy is going to stamp it out. 

————-

The week before Rosh Hashanah, Jeremy’s dad e-mails him the link to the website of a local synagogue, and ridiculously easy directions on how to get there. 

_“I called them up, and told them you’re bad at finding things,”_ the e-mail reads. _“This is what they told me. If it's still an issue, here's the number of somebody who will drive you._

Jeremy has to rest his head in his hands for a few minutes. His eyes are stringing, mostly out of gratitude that his dad would know exactly what he needed, even from eight hours away. A part of him, however, is full of disgust that he would need anything. 

“I'm eighteen, and my dad is still making my phone calls,” Jeremy explains to Michael later. 

“Yeah, but you were like seventeen before he _started_ making your phone calls,” Michael says. “My theory is that he's feeling guilty for not getting his shit together sooner, and trying to make amends. Let him.” 

“Maybe?” 

“Totally.” 

Jeremy traces the pattern on his and Michael’s quilt. Michael has a point about his dad not having his father not having his life together for a really long time, not that it was ever his fault. He was depressed and in a bad marriage. Jeremy knows a lot more about mental health than his dad ever has, and so has no excuse for not having his own life together. He has a lot that he needs to get better at. 

“Yo, Jeremy?” 

Jeremy starts. Was he blanking out on Michael? 

Michael kisses his temple. “Shana Tovah, bud.” 

“You’re like six days too early,” Jeremy says, but he can feel himself smiling. 

“It's the one Hebrew phrase I know. Let me live a little.” 

Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Just know I'm gonna start wishing you a happy new year in like November now.” 

Michael grins. “Whatever you do, I still wished you a happy new year first.”


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: A past suicide attempt by a character who is not Michael or Jeremy gets brought up in this chapter, so if that's not something you are comfortable reading, you might want to skip this one. There's also a non-graphic vomit mention, and descriptions of really bad parenting.

**October**

Jeremy calls his dad on Tuesday nights. It’s a sensible night to do it. Nobody parties on Tuesdays, so it's not like he has to worry about missing any social obligations. 

(increasingly, Jeremy is starting to hate, of at least feel woefully unfit for his social obligations.)

Hopefully, Jeremy's dad enjoys the phone calls. Hopefully Jeremy comes off as happy and well adjusted. Hopefully Jeremy sounds concerned for his dad rather than desperate and afraid for himself. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully…

It's Tuesday, and Jeremy calls his dad. The ringtone plays for a minute, while he waits for him to pick up.

It's Tuesday and Jeremy calls his dad. The ringtone plays for thirty seconds. 

It's Tuesday. Jeremy calls his dad. He doesn't count how long the ringtone goes for, because who the hell does that?

"How are you?" Jeremy starts.

"Im fine," Jeremy tells his dad. "I like school. I'm learning… things. Things! I'm learning things.”

"Yeah,” says Jeremy “Michael is fine too. Yes, I found the synagogue okay. Yeah, I met some people there. They were nice. Why wouldn't they be? Most people are nice and have good intentions. I'm just weird and I ruin it.”

“No,” says Jeremy. “I didn't ruin it at synagogue. I just have a high potential to ruin things, you know?”

(Jeremy’s dad does not.)

“I’m keeping ip with my classwork,” lies Jeremy.

(He's lying.)

“I think I finally understand poetry,” lies Jeremy.

(He's lying.) 

“I love my classes,” Jeremy lies. 

(It isn't true.)

A lot of times, Jeremy asks his dad whether or not he wants him to come home.

"I can come home,". he says.

"If you need me, i can just call it bust, and come home.".

"You shouldn't have to be alone. Are you okay? Maybe I could come home and try this college thing another year." 

Jeremy can't talk to his dad with Michael listening. Michael doesn't understand that the offers Jeremy makes his dad are just a courtesy. He's not going home. He's in college now, and he's going to stick it out. 

\-----------------

Jeremy doesn't do his homework well and he doesn't do it enough. He tries, but it makes no sense. Reading makes him go cross-eyed, with the migraines and tension headaches that he's had ever since the Squip. 

In classes, Jeremy sits straight-backed. He makes eye contact with his professors, and smiles whenever one of them makes a cheesy joke. 

They might as well be speaking Japanese. 

The more Jeremy tries to pay attention, the less he catches. It's like watching a slide show on an old-timey projector. A static image will show on the screen, it's colors unnaturally muted, and then— Click! Blackness, which is soon replaced with (click!) another static image, more nonsensical than the last. 

Something is wrong with Jeremy’s brain, but he takes it in stride, and hides it well. Back in high school, he'd start hyperventilating when this kind of shit started happening, but not anymore! Jeremy stays collected. When it gets really bad, he turns his bracelet around his wrist, and concentrates on the sensation, letting it tether him. 

He doesn't tell anybody. He starts with Michael. Probably he starts wrong, ‘cause Michael is annoyingly blasé about it. 

“I blank out, kinda,” is how Jeremy puts it. “I can't concentrate.” 

“What else is new?” 

“Uh—” heat rushes to Jeremy’s face. 

Michael glances up at him, and clears his throat. “What I mean, is that you shouldn't worry. We already went through this in high school. This is how things’ve been ever since the--" he taps his temple. "My point is, it's not like its new, and you got it once already, right? You’ll get through college too."

"Yeah, but high school wasn't important. It didn't determine my future." 

"Kinda did." 

"Not really."

"I mean,” says Michael, “Your grades are part of the reason you're drowning in student loans instead of swimming in scholarship moola, but hey, you're here! You found a workaround for your shitty grades, and I'm hoping that the rich get guillotined before your mountains of debt really come into play. It's a thing that could happen. There's a historical precedent or whatever. You just have to play the system until the system plays itself out and implodes, since its never been a sustainable system anyway."

Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Cool Michael. How stoned are you, exactly?”

"You're made of stardust, man. Follow your dreams."

"Wow.”

“And don't worry about anything. We’ll get through it by being mega in love.”

———-

Nonetheless, Jeremy worries. He'd hoped that he'd leave his bullshit behind when he moved to a new location, but clearly that's not what happening. He's the same person in Vermont as he was in New Jersey. 

The thing where he can't pay attention in class is a huge problem. 

He borrows Michael's notes. Michael is doing okay academically, and he has no right to be, because his stupid notes don't make any fucking sense, and he draws more than he writes anyway— Doodles of Pokémon and Super Mario characters that Jeremy would love in any other circumstance. Michael’s got a cartoon of Scully and Mulder busting some kind of underground drug operation that hits scarily close to home, with the drugs being from Japan and everything. 

Jeremy doesn't talk to as many people in his classes as Michael does. 

Or rather, Jeremy does talk to them. He talks to more of them than Michael does, at this point. 

 

Jeremy talks to everybody. He tries very hard to be likable or at least unobtrusive, but he's not at the level of friendship with anybody at school where he can ask them for favors. He has a rule about that. If he does twenty or more favors for another person then he can ask that person to do a favor for him in return. That's called compensating. Jeremy is a comparatively wretched and disgusting example of the human race, so he needs to do a lot of compensating. 

Jeremy's not good enough at compensating. He's never good enough at anything. 

What it all boils down to is that Jeremy can't pay attention in class, and he doesn't have any way of asking for help from anybody who can actually help him. And that sucks. Jeremy sucks. 

\----------------

Another Tuesday and another phone call. 

"I can come home," Jeremy tells his dad. 

"I’m doing well," Jeremy says. 

"My lit teacher liked my paper," he explains.

(He doesn't say that he didn't finish the paper, and what his lit teacher had actually said was that she couldn't understand how a paper with such a strong start could end with him copy and pasting the beginning three times to make up the word count, in the false hope that she wouldn't actually read it.)

(Jeremy cant believe that he did that either. It had been a Squip idea through and through. 

"I don't have to stay here and leave you alone," Jeremy tells his father. "I could come home. I don't need to be here. I need to be wherever I'm needed most, is what I mean, and if i contribute to your emotional well-being, maybe i should be at home. Do you even have friends? Why don’t you get some friends?"

\----------------

Jeremy’s mom calls him. It's Tuesday, and he's supposed to be calling his dad, but she wouldn't know that, because it's been over a year since she last contacted him. 

“What's your address at school,” she asks. “I want to send you a graduation gift.”

“I'm sorry I didn't call earlier,” she says. “I was afraid you wouldn't answer, and I didn't think I could take that. I tried to jump off a bridge in May. I think if I called and you didn't answer, I'd have tried it again tonight. I'm so happy you answered. I’m glad that you’re grown up now, and I can tell you these things. I hope that we can have a relationship now, as two adults with a shared history.” 

She laughs, and even not being able to see her, Jeremy can envision exactly the way her head tilts back. 

“You’re right,” she says. “It is a fucked up history. Does your dad ever say those kinds of words around you? You can swear at me too if you want. You can do whatever you want, and I'll never stop you. Just promise me you’ll always pick up the phone.” 

————————————————————————————————————-

“What did she say?” Michael asks when it's over. 

“She said that since I'm an adult now, I'm allowed to use cuss words.”

“…What the hell?”

————————————————————————————————————

Jeremy shrugs. Bile burns his throat, and he swallows it down quickly. 

“Something tells me that's not all she said.” 

————————————————————————————————————

Another swallow. 

_’When is it ever?’_ the Squip supplies.

“When is it ever?” Jeremy repeats, too tired to bother with the bracelet for now. Nothing like talking to his mom to make the fight go out of him. 

“What else did she want?” asks Michael. 

————————————————————————————————————

_’Nothing important. Just a lot of bullshit.’_

“Nothing important. Just ————————————————————————————————  
————————————————————————————————————

a lot of bullshit. She wants to send me a graduation card.”

————————————————————————————————————

Jeremy is still holding his phone in his hands. He'd spent the phone call pacing around the room. He hasn't sat down. Michael gets up, wrapping his arms around Jeremy’s shoulder. Things are ——————————————————————————————————————————-

flashing.

————————————————————————————————————

Jeremy wants to close his eyes. He wants to lean into Michael and shut down.

 _’You can't do that’,_ says the Squip.

“Why not?” asks Jeremy. 

_’You’re about to throw up._

Even Jeremy has to admit that that's a good reason to push Michael away, which he does, before closing himself off in the bathroom. 

(He cleans up thoroughly after, of course. Paul is still anal about those kinds of things.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment? I did a thing. Did it work?


	4. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are strong intimacy and consent issues towards the end of the chapter, with allusions to Do You Wanna Hang. If that's not something you're comfortable reading, you might want to stop here.

Final exams happen at the ass end of October, and the results come in right at the start of November. They aren’t good. Jeremey is passing history by the skin of his teeth, and he is somehow getting a C in math, which is usually one of his worst classes. Everything else is straight Fs. He's always been moderately shit at school, but this is a new low. How could this be happening?

It's not that he doesn't go to class. He goes, but he isn't _there_. 

It's not that he doesn't do his required reading. He spends so much time on his reading. He flips and flips and flips through pages and pages and pages, eyes scanning over the words, and taking in exactly zero of them. 

Jeremy’s essays get procrastinated on into oblivion, and his class participation consists of choking on words and stuttering nonsense. 

"It's not the end of the world," Michael says, when Jeremy tells him the news. "It's just a warning, like all those hurricanes and shit."

"Like all those hurricanes?"

"Yeah. Global warming. Everybody thinks it's fake, but it isn't, and the hurricanes prove it."

"Nobody thinks its fake." 

"Rich people who benefit from it being fake do. Or if they do believe in it, they don't care, because they're old." 

Jeremy rubs his eyes. He could change the topic easily. He could get Michael to talk about global warning until his voice went hoarse, and then they could pretend that things were okay. 

“What does that have to do with my grades?” Jeremy asks instead, voice dull. “I don't think my failure and ineptitude are fake. I've never believed in anything more completely.”

"Hey!"

Jeremy flinches. 

Michael puts a placating hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. "Sorry man." 

"It's fine. You have every reason to be mad at me. I'm mad at me." 

"I'm not mad. I'm just trying to get through to you. You can turn this around. Go talk to our professors. Tell them you have PTSD… _and_ depression, and generalized anxiety, dyspraxia, and… um… asthma! Gotta remember the asthma... a shitty mom..." 

As Michael talks, he holds up his hand, counting Jeremy’s many issues on his fingers. 

_’Disgusting,’_ says the Squip, who isn't on Michael’s list, because Jeremy can't exactly tell his professors about that.

_’He's not mentioning me, because getting me was the only good decision you’ve made in your pathetic life. Think how much easier things would be if you brought me back to my full power.’_

 

Jeremy doesn't go for his bracelet. He hasn't had the energy lately, and why should he? If even Michael’s got a running list of the things that make him sub-human, what reason does he have to fight against the most sub-human part of himself?

In the corner of the room, the Squip nods solemnly. 

_’You should throw the bracelet out,’_ the Squip suggests. Jeremy bites down hard on his lower lip, shifting it between his teeth. He tastes copper. The Squip has been getting him to throw out a lot of things lately. Little things, like his pac-man keychain, and the bi flag enamel pin Jake got him. He only lets it talk him into throwing out little things, nothing big— just gross pens with chewed up caps, a NASA postcard from his cousin, his pills.

“Jer?” Michael touches his cheek, which puts a stop to the chewing. 

"If I can't handle it, I should just drop out,” says Jeremy. 

"You'll never be able to handle it if you do that. You're learning how to handle it. Think of this as a game tutorial. You can't fuck up a game tutorial ‘cause the whole point of it is that you don't know how to play the game yet. Even if you do flunk out of freshman year, you'll just get put on academic probation. They only kick you out of you flunk out of being a sophomore. See? Lots of time." 

"Everything's wrong with me." 

"Talk to people. They’ll help. _I’ll_ help. I'm here for you."

\-------

And so Jeremy tries to talk to his teachers. He digs through old syllabuses. Organization is his only good academic trait. He learned it from the Squip, ‘cause he certainly wasn't ever organized before. Jeremy's got all his handouts, books, and materials meticulously arranged. The handful of disjointed notes he has managed to take are stored and in the correct binders. Too bad they don't tell him anything. He feels like a dumb robot that was made for a single purpose, like to play solitaire or sweep up leaves or sit very very straight, and now he's being asked to do tasks that his programing doesn't cover. 

Only that's not the best analogy. Jeremy has a tumblr, which he's ashamed to admit, but Christine has one so he does too, and there is that one post about how Koalas will die if they try to chew on leaves that aren't from their native tree, and all they do is sit in their trees and scream until their teeth wear down and they die. That's what Jeremy feels like, even more than he feels like a malfunctioning robot, because at least Koalas are made of flesh, for all that they are toxic and stupid. 

Nonetheless, Jeremy digs out his syllabuses, and looks up the e-mail addresses and office hours of his teachers. He reads that shit a thousand times over, trying to memorize it, though it never sticks. He reminds himself every few minutes that he _must_ send those e-mails, or perish trying. 

The e-mails don't get sent. 

Jeremy thinks about sending them. 

Jeremy doesn't send them. 

Jeremy thinks about sending them.

He doesn't send them. 

So he thinks harder. He thinks so hard that his teeth grind and his brain hurts and there's pressure in his temples and the back of his neck. 

He still doesn't send those e-mails.

 

The worst thing of all is that Jeremy can't do anything else until he sends the e-mails out. He isn't allowed. He spends so many evenings coming back from classes, telling himself that he'll get some food in the caf as soon as he sends his e-mails, not sending them, and therefore not eating. He snaps at Michael when he tries to make him . Michael has to stop trying to change things that he doesn't control, and that Jeremy doesn't control either. Nobody controls anything, and that's why life is such total bullshit. 

Michael wants to make Jeremy take Mountain Dew Red. The Squip is a chronic condition, which fluctuates between overwhelming and barely there, but it can be controlled. Control is important.

 _‘You shouldn't take it,’_ says the Squip. ‘ _It's destroying what few brain cells you have. For god’s sake, try to behave in a less alarming manner around Michael, before he stops letting you make your own choices_.

—————-

Jeremy and Michael have a morning routine. Usually it's Michael who starts it, watching Jeremy dress for the day, and pulling Jeremy to him halfway through for a kiss, which leads to more. It's good, because it gets stuff out of Jeremy's system, and eliminates at least one of his usual dumb distractions. 

It's a Tuesday morning, and Squip is on Jeremy’s case. Jeremy is straddling Michael's lap, and his mouth is on Michael's mouth. and Jeremy’s chest hurts. Things are out of control, is all that he can think. He's not in control.

 _‘Stop moving your legs so much,’_ the Squip tells Jeremy. He's already kicked or elbowed Michael a few times, twitching under his touch, because if he stays still, how is he supposed to know which parts of his body he can still move, and which are being taken over?

"Jer?"

"Y-yeah...?". 

"I'm gonna stop, okay?"

Jeremy shakes his head. "You can keep going."

"No way, man. We can try again when you’re feeling better.”

Jeremy surges forward, lips finding Michael’s, but Michael jerks back.

"We’re stopping,” Michael repeats.

"I..."

"Buddy, you’re shaking like mad.”

"I want to do this," Jeremy says. Does he?

"Do you?"

"Yes!" 

Michael leans in just a tiny bit, and Jeremy tightens all over, shoulders caving. 

"Yeah, didn't think so,” Michael whispers.

 _’What a time to say I told you so!’_ says the Squip. _’Are you going to stand for that?’_

Michael hasn't stopped talking, though he's carefully quiet, as though trying not to startle Jeremy. “Let's grab some breakfast,” he's saying. “It’ll be good not to be rushed for once. You’re okay. It's fine." 

"No," says Jeremy. "I mean, we're not done, and....."

“I can feel your heart racing. You can't even look at me.” 

“And that's not my fault! On what planet is that my fault? Why are you trying to punish me for that?” 

Stunned silence.

“Michael?”

“Get off.” 

Jeremy does. . Michael stands up, pushing his hair back. “I need to get away for a while,” he says. “I'm coming back, so you don't have to be afraid that I'm furious at you and I’m never coming back, ‘cause I _am_ coming back, but…” 

“I get it.”

With a grimace, and a gesture that starts as a thumbs up sign and turns into a frantic arm wave, Michael goes.

“I'm terrible,” Jeremy tells the closed door.

Jeremy's fear that he's ruined everything forever carries him as far as his computer, where he drafts up an e-mail to his professors, explaining to them that he's got so many problems, but he’ll do anything for a second chance, he really will. It's not the issue at hand, but it's either solve something, or fall apart while the Squip laughs.


	5. December

**December**

Professor Silver’s office is adorned with Lord of the Rings posters. That's why she's the first teacher that Jeremy sets up a meeting with. A teacher who likes nerdy fantasy stories and isn't afraid to show it is probably one who is okay with her students seeing her as a full-fledged human, and though humans are often sucky and sometimes mean-spirited, authority figures who are trying to prove themselves above normal humanity are scarier by far. 

“Sit down,” Professor Silver says. Jeremy does. He keeps his eyes fixed on the poster above her head. It's an outward thing that he can focus on, instead of looking down and curling inward. “I've read your e-mail. Why don't you tell me what arrangement you’re hoping we’ll find for your current predicament.”

Jeremy plucks at his bracelet. One, two, three. 

“Mr. Heere?” 

Maybe coming here was a mistake. Opening your mouth and saying words is a big part of talking things over with Professors, and unfortunately, that's where Jeremy is stalling. 

He gives his bracelet another three snaps. Three to talk. 

Professor Silver waits. Maybe this is her fault. Why’s she asking Jeremy about arrangements? Aren't those her job to figure out?

Snap, snap, snap.

(Rule number one, the fault is _always_ with Jeremy.)

A few years ago Jeremy read an interview with this guy who played a reoccurring extra on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. His character never had any lines, and he was twenty layers deep in an alien costume which made him look like a walking turd, but he told the interviewers all this BS about how he did a lot of acting with his eyes. Jeremy is very much in a mental space where he feels he has a lot in common with silent turd aliens and the washed up actors who play them. He wonders if his eyes are saying anything useful right now, anything that’ll buy him some time. Jeremy wonders why Michael had to go and start using phrases like ‘selectively non-verbal’ to try and explain Jeremy’s issues to him. It's not that the phrasing was wrong, or meant to condemn, but knowing terms for stuff sparks frustration in Jeremy, like now that he’s savvy and up to date on his vocabulary, he should be able to overcome every obstacle. Either that, or he must be faking it, because he's just so _conscious_ of it all. 

Another three snaps. 

One, two, three. 

One, two, three.

One, two, three. 

A breath.

“I was wondering,” Jeremy says, speaking very clearly, albeit in the direction of his wrist, “if there's still a way for me to pass.” 

“You’ve failed to hand in five papers, worth fifty percent of your grade,” says Professor Silver. 

Jeremy nods. He is very aware of that. 

“I'll need to see them before the end of this term. The highest grade I can give you on any of them, due to tardiness, is an 80.” 

Another nod. 

“Jeremy.” 

Jeremy looks up from his bracelet. 

“An 80 is considerably better than a zero. You have two more essays to write. Turn them in on time. Your midterm score wasn't good, but it's only fifteen percent of your grade, and you earned—” Professor Silver taps something into her computer “—fifty five points out of 100. That’s better than nothing. If you apply yourself, it will still be possible to pass. Let's make a schedule for those late papers.” 

Difficulty speaking aside, it's not the worst meeting imaginable. Jeremy comes out of it with some hope and a plan. It gives him courage to talk to his other teachers. His Intro to World History prof will accept any finished work he can turn in before the end of the week, which is two days away. His physics prof gives him an extra credit assignment, due on Monday. 

The professor for Jeremy’s Film Criticism class recommends dropping out, which is hard to swallow, because film crit is the one course Jeremy chose out of interest rather than requirement. The professor doesn't take late assignments, and he doesn't believe in coddling students who aren't ready for a rigorous academic environment. “Sometimes,” he says, “It's better to quit when you’re only one semester into student loan debt. College isn't for everybody.” 

Michael’s quick to cheer Jeremy on in his dealings with his professors, and quick to express his hatred of the film crit prof. 

“He's an idiot,” Michael says, pacing the room. “He calls his class a weed-out course because he can't teach. Lots of people aren't passing. Don't take it that seriously. College was supposed to be fun. We’re supposed to be enjoying this. So, you know, do what you can and screw the haters.” 

**’Well, that's a mature outlook on life,’** says the Squip. 

Jeremy gives his bracelet four snaps. 

**’Tell him he's being childish.’**

Four more snaps. 

**’Tell him…’**

Snap.

(Is the bracelet losing power?)

Snap.

(If it is, Jeremy’s to blame for spending November wallowing instead of using it.) 

Snap. 

(The Squip needs to shut up.)

Snap.

(If the bracelet is not working anymore, Jeremy might die.)

Things are still off between Jeremy and Michael. Michael isn't unkind. He talks to Jeremy. He cracks jokes. He's withdrawn physically, and he's taken to watching Jeremy like he expects him to burst into flames. Maybe Jeremy will do just that. Bursting in the flames would be a relief right now. 

**’Tell him he's being immature.’**

“I don't get why you have to be so immature about this,” Jeremy spits out. “You keep saying we’re here to have fun. We are _not_ here to have fun. We’re here to study, in case you haven't noticed.” 

“It's not that I haven't noticed! It's that you have a lot to worry about right now other than studying, and I'm taking your side against a professor who’s being mega unfair! We’re not fighting here, Jeremy, so quit acting like we are!” 

**’Tell him you’re not taking scholastic advice from a burnt out stoner who is never going to amount to anything.’**

“I don't have to listen to you,” Jeremy shouts, not knowing if he's talking to Michael or the Squip. 

Michael glares at him. “Yeah, well, it's fucking obvious that you aren't. Have you heard a single word I’ve said, or are you only listening to the things the Squip whispers in your ear these days?” 

“I—”

 **‘Jeremy, repeat after me.’**

(snap, snap, snap, snap) 

**’I'm not taking scholastic advice from a burnt out stoner who is never going to amount to anything.’**

“Why should I take scholastic advice from a burnt out stoner who’ll never amount to anything?” 

“God, I don't know, Jeremy,” Michael says, voice dripping with frustration and sarcasm. “Let’s think about it. Which one of us is actually passing his classes, and which one of us is literally raving because he threw out his medicine and refuses to do anything to help himself?”

 **’There. Now you know what he thinks of you.’**

Jeremy swallows. Michael gives the edge of his red sweatshirt a sharp tug. He seems to be trying to gather himself. He's shaking almost as much as Jeremy is. 

“I'm not m—” Michael starts to say, softer now. “Shit, who am I kidding. I _am_ mad. I don't understand why you’re treating yourself like this. Look, I've got a ton of Red. Will you just take some? Things are mega sucky, but we’ll be able to move forward once you do.” 

**’You don't want that.’**

Jeremy plucks at the bracelet, hands shaky. “I-I… okay.” 

Michael’s shoulders slump. He looks away from Jeremy. “I'm sorry I said all that stuff.” 

If Jeremy takes the Red, maybe he can go on with his studies. Maybe things can be normal again. 

**‘They won't be. You’ll scare David and Paul with your screaming the moment it touches your lips, and you’ll be incapacitated for at least twenty-four hours, which will result in you not having time to complete your homework in accordance with the arrangements you made today.’**

“Can we wait until Monday night?” Jeremy asks. “I want this thing shut off, but I have so much homework to make up, and I have to make up my homework, and… homework.” 

Michael frowns. “You know you’re more important than your homework, right?” 

“I… maybe. But I busted ass and talked to so many people to get those extensions. I don't want it to have been for nothing.” 

“I'm not going to force you to take the Red,” Michael says. “I don't force you to do things. You really think you can make it to Monday?” 

“I have to.” 

Michael sighs. “Okay.” 

—————— 

Jeremy pulls an all nighter trying to knock out at least one of those papers. From nine PM till four, he sits at the computer, listless and nauseous, heartbeat threading through his wrist. He hasn't exactly stopped shaking since his argument with Michael, who isn't sleeping either.

At 4:15, Michael downloads an app called Written-Kitten that promises to show Jeremy cat pictures every time he writes one hundred words. This induces a twenty/two word writing spurt, and nothing more. Michael downloads another app, called Write Or Die. This one plays unpleasant noises, and pops up pictures of spiders if Jeremy doesn't type fast enough. He finishes his paper in an hour and a half. The Squip commends Write or Die as an excellent piece of technology. Michael looks sheepish and mutters something about how maybe giving Jeremy that solution was a bad idea. 

“Like, a lot of things were a bad idea,” Michael goes on. “Like, I'm not gonna say that we shouldn't be out here, but we shouldn't be out anywhere where I'm the only one with you.” 

Jeremy has no answer for that, so he ignores it. 

————

 **‘Luckily Michael isn't the only one helping you,’** the Squip taunts during Psychology. 

Jeremy snaps his bracelet. 

**‘Just think of all the places you can go if you listen to me,’** the Squip encourages during Intro to English Literature. 

Jeremy snaps his bracelet. 

**‘You’re going to have to listen to me eventually,’** the Squip sneers during history. 

Jeremy’s bracelet snaps. He looks down at the severed piece of plastic in his hand, and snaps right along with it. 

————————-

“Hi, dad?” 

It's late at night. Jeremy’s throat hurts. His eyes hurt so bad he can't keep them open. Michael is finally sleeping, and Jeremy is meant to be sleeping too. Every part of his body aches. Even so he presses the phone to his ear. 

“I’m not doing well,” Jeremy whispers. If it comes out sounding calm, it's only because Jeremy lacks the energy to emote. “I can't stay here. I need you to come and get me. I know it's late, but I don't feel like I can last another minute. Could you come as quick as you can?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the transition between the broken bracelet and Jeremy calling his dad seems abrupt, rest assured that what exactly happened will be more clearly explained in the next chapter. Right now Jeremy, as our point of view character, is too close to the event to think about it. 
> 
> PS reviews always appreciated <3


	6. Downer Ending Where Everybody is Sad and Nothing Cheerful Happens

Jeremy waits for his dad on the steps of his dormitory building. He keeps close to the stone railing at the side, arms wrapped around his knees. Every now and then, another guy asks if he's alright. Some get nods in response, and some get nothing. “He's just weird like that. Ignore him,” one explains to another. As the night grows later the traffic in and out of the building peters out. Jeremy prays that his dad will get there before Michael wakes up. He can't explain that he's leaving. He can't face the prospect of getting talked out of it. He shivers and waits. Michael stayed up all night with Jeremy and his paper yesterday. He has no business waking up and putting a stop to this.

Next to Jeremy, the Squip sits staring into the distance, superfluously dressed in a thick winter coat. It makes no sense. He should be impervious to the cold, so the only reason he could possibly be wearing that has gotta be to show how much better and smarter than Jeremy he is. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jeremy thinks at him. 

No answer. 

“If you’re going to drive me out of my mind you could at least talk me through it,” Jeremy says, lips not moving, except to accommodate the chattering of his teeth. 

**Your current energy levels are too low to effectively run my programming, particularly considering the attacks you’ve made on me in the past. Not only am I a stripped down version of myself, I'm essentially in power-saving mode.**

“Oh,” Jeremy says, this time out loud. 

**Once you have returned to New Jersey I advise you to take several days’ rest, then drink green Mountain Dew to fully reactivate me.**

Jeremy nods. It's not precisely an agreement, but it's not a refusal either. 

The Squip fades slowly as the hours tick by. Soon he's as transparent as the white puffs of breath from Jeremy’s mouth. 

Jeremy’s dad arrives a little while after six AM. Jeremy pulls himself to his feet the second he sees his car. His heart does a little leap, and the Squip’s form intensifies, as if fortified by Jeremy’s rush of adrenaline. Never mind. Jeremy runs out to meet the car, to hug his dad when he opens the door. He asked him to come, and he came! Asking his dad for things is something that Jeremy usually avoids, afraid that whatever he requests will fall through, and he’ll have to admit to himself that the veneer of responsibility and competence his dad’s taken on since junior year has been an illusion. 

Jeremy’s dad doesn't let go of him for a long time. When he does, he pushes Jeremy back gently, holding him at arm’s length to look him over. 

“What happened? Have you been out here all night?” 

Jeremy glances behind him. The Squip’s gone near transparent again. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Jeremy manages to croak out. “Can we just go home?” 

“What about your things?” 

Jeremy shakes his head. 

“What about Michael?” 

Jeremy shakes his head. 

“Let's sit in the car.” 

Jeremy gets into the passenger seat. He accepts his dad’s coat, and holds his hands over the radiator. When the car doesn't move, he looks up at his dad. 

“Michael can't have known you were sitting out there like that,” Jeremy’s dad says. “He wouldn't let you do that. He doesn't know what we’re about to do, does he?” 

Jeremy shakes his head. It's a confession. 

“Don't you want to talk to him?” 

“I can't.” Jeremy can hardly make sentences, let alone face a conversation where Michael might beg him to stay. “Can we _please_ just go?” 

“One of us has to talk to Michael. He’ll wake up and go looking for you. Is that what you want?” 

Jeremy rests his head on the dashboard. He shuts his eyes tight. 

“I’ll do it,” Jeremy’s dad says. He pats Jeremy’s shoulder. “Sit tight, kiddo.” 

“Don't let him come down,” Jeremy says. 

“I'll do what I can.”

Jeremy’s dad is gone for a very long time. When he returns, his face is as drawn and grim as if he'd witnessed a murder, or perhaps committed one at Jeremy’s behest. Jeremy doesn't ask. His dad turns the key in the ignition, and they drive off, leaving Burlington College behind them. 

——————-

Jeremy doesn't realize just how much he'd gone off the deep end during his first few days home. He needs to hit rock bottom before his decisions over the past few months can stop seeming reasonable. And he _does_ hit rock bottom, or close to it at least. Pretty much the only thing he doesn't do, before quieting down the Squip with not one but two doses of Mountain Dew Red, is reactivate it. 

Rich never went to college. He's the only one still living in New Jersey, along with Jake, who is going to community college nearby and keeping busy with that. Rich is around for Jeremy to hang with, even when Jeremy’s a huge downer. He talks to Jeremy— about bullshit, mostly. He listens when Jeremy talks to him. 

“There was too much going on in my brain,” Jeremy says, during one of his and Rich’s conversations. “I really lost it.” 

“Yeah, I've been there. Look at it this way— You might’ve burnt some bridges, but you didn't set a house on fire.” 

That's a surprisingly clever way of putting it. Maybe Jeremy doesn't give Rich enough credit. 

“Those bridges were important,” Jeremy says. 

“Yep. And now they’re burnt and you’re here. So figure out what to do with that.”

“Like, I think I made the right decision to come home, but I wasn't making decisions at that moment. Things were just happening. All at once. I couldn't deal.” 

“I get it,” Rich agrees. “Let's eat. Let's get drunk and do something really stupid.” 

——————

_After Jeremy’s bracelet snapped, he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe, and then he could, but only in painful gulps that felt too big for his lungs. He was in a classroom. The limp thread of plastic lay like a snake on the desk. This had been a long time in coming. Behind him, the Squip loomed._

_**Keep it together, Jeremy. Class finishes in five minutes. The second that happens, you must walk back to your dorm as if nothing is wrong.** _

_Jeremy couldn’t keep it together. He scratched at his wrist where his bracelet was supposed to be, but wasn't._

_**In fact, nothing _is_ wrong. This has always been inevitable.** _

_Everything was wrong. Things were flashing again. Jeremy could make out words and occasional phrases from his teacher’s lecture, but not full sentences. Only the Squip was clear._

_**Don’t cry. So far you haven't drawn attention to yourself from anybody who matters.** _

_The class ended._

_**Assure Michael Mell that you’re absolutely fine. If he makes a big deal out of this, it will only make you seem more pitiful.** _

_“Jeremy?”_

_Jeremy couldn't speak, so he didn't. He couldn't move. The Squip was right. This was pitiful. In a vague, glitching in and out of the present kinda way, Jeremy was aware of Michael talking to the professor, and waving a few other students away. As the classroom emptied out, Michael pulled up a chair, and sat down in front of Jeremy. He was talking, probably. Jeremy’s brain wasn't wording the way brains should word._

_**Processing issues.** _

_Michael picked up the severed bracelet. He rubbed Jeremy’s wrist, then began slowly moving all of the bracelets from his own wrist one by one onto Jeremy’s._

_**Placebos.** _

__what?_ _

_**Don’t you dare start crying.** _

_Jeremy started crying. It wasn't defiance. The Squip covered his face with his palm, shaking his head._

_**This is stupid. You are incapable of compliance.** _

_The Squip crossed his arms, retreating to the far corner of the room to watch, while Michael took Jeremy’s head in his hands, continuing to speak softly to him._

_After too long, Jeremy’s crying started to ease off. Idly, almost automatically, he gripped at the new assortment of bracelets._

_“There,” Michael whispered. “That's good. You’re so good.”_

_Jeremy shook his head._

_“You are.”_

_**The next thing you know he’ll be praising you for burping under your own power.** _

_Jeremy let out a soft whine, which didn't turn into tears, because he was too tired. Michael kissed the top of his head._

_“We have to go back to our room now,” Michael said, fingers running through Jeremy’s hair as he spoke._

_“I'm stupid.”  
“You’re scared. I’ll help. Promise.” _

_“I'm—” Jeremy sniffled. “In.. I'm in… in…”_

_“In what?”_

_“I'm incapable of compliance.”_

_Michael looked up over Jeremy’s shoulder, as if trying to find the place where the Squip was standing._

_“You don't have to comply with anything.”_

_**He expects you to comply with what he wants you to do.** _

_“Jer, it'll be better if we go back to the dorms. We haven't got this classroom for much longer. Another class is starting here soon.”_

_Those were a lot of words. Jeremy covered his face. Michael just waited._

_“Put your arm around my shoulders.”_

_Jeremy did._

_“Thanks, bud. Stand up. Good. We’re going back to our room now.”_

_They did._

_Back in the room, Michael asked Jeremy if he'd be up for a glass of water, and he agreed. He informed Jeremy that he was soaked through with sweat, and asked if he could help him change into a clean shirt. Jeremy agreed to that too._

_Michael asked Jeremy if he was ready to take the Mountain Dew Red._

_**No.** _

_“No.”_

_**You feel sick. You want to sleep first, then you’ll take it.** _

_“I don't feel well,” Jeremy explained._

_“And taking red will make you feel worse.”_

_Jeremy nodded._

_“Come on. You can sleep for a few hours, and then we’ll go on for round two.”_

_Jeremy let Michael guide him to lie down. He let Michael hold him and rub his back._

_“Just rest now. It's okay. The second you wake up, we’re wiping out every trace of shitty technology in that brain of yours.”_

_**Not a chance.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Reviews appreciated. They mean a lot to me coming at the end of a multi-chapter fic. 
> 
>  
> 
> 2\. If you would like to see everybody recover and go on to lead happy and fulfilling lives, wherein they grow and learn a lot, and an abundance of meremy happens, go read "And they were Roommates". This fic was written mostly as a personal character development project for writing that one. 
> 
> Here's link:   
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866874


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